Crossing the Line
by moviemom44
Summary: “Sydney...I never thought you’d ever use my feelings for you against me. So this kiss was a trick? Do you even care how that makes me feel? Have you ever kissed anybody without making an excuse or a joke out of it?" he raged, louder with each question.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I don't own either of these characters.

Technically, this should probably be considered a one-shot, since it takes place all at the same time and in the same place, but it was so long I felt it needed to be broken into chapters. Some stories begin with a plot, others with a concept, this one started with one line -- "But you're my partner!" Sydney cried. -- and has been noodling around in my head for a long time. Getting the beginning and ending wrapped around that line in the middle was driving me crazy and keeping me from working on Chapter 3 of Better Late Than Never, so I had to finish this and get it out of my system. As always, reviews are deeply appreciated.

Crossing the Line

by

Moviemom44

The smell of fresh cut lumber and the sound of sandpaper scraping a wooden surface greeted Ranger Sydney Cooke's senses when she arrived at the apartment of her partner, Ranger Francis Gage.

"Come on in, Syd. I'm in the kitchen," she heard Gage yell when she rang the doorbell.

Letting herself in, she called out, "I see you finally got around to disconnecting the hallway light from the doorbell."

"Yeah, but I almost wish I had left it alone. Sometimes I kind of miss it," Gage said as she rounded the corner to find him sitting on his kitchen floor in front of what looked like a miniature house made of unfinished wood. A toolbox sat open on the counter and several sandpaper sheets were stacked neatly on the sawdust-covered floor. A half a bagel with cream cheese lay on the kitchen table on a wrapper that said 'Dunkin' Donuts.'

"Hey, how old is this bagel?" Sydney asked, hungry after her morning workout at the gym, but aware that her partner wasn't the most fastidious person on the planet.

"Just this morning, Shorty. Help yourself," he said, smiling up at her.

"So you miss the flashing doorbell? Really?" she asked as she bit into the bagel.

"Kind of. Not that I miss needing it; I don't wish that I were still deaf, but installing that doorbell was the first thing I did here at home to acknowledge my hearing loss and then after I regained my hearing, it was the last thing to go. I don't know, I guess it was sort of the first and last step on the journey through a pretty rough time in my life."

He hoped his hastily constructed explanation sounded less like unmitigated bull to her than it did to him. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that what he really missed was the daily reminder not only of the way Sydney had cared for and supported him for all those weeks, but also of the first thing he heard her say when his hearing was restored. He had thought that disconnecting it would make it easier to settle back into being 'just partners' with her again, but he had been wrong.

Sydney wondered why her fun-loving, easy-going partner was feeling so sentimental this morning, but she decided she'd rather eat first and ask questions later. While she chewed, she looked carefully at the structure he had built. The longer she looked the more impressed she was.

"You know, Gage, I have to say that when you said you were building something for the baby's room, I was pretty skeptical. I had no idea you were so good at woodworking," Sydney said, adding, "It's absolutely beautiful."

"Backhanded a compliment as that was, Syd, I'll take it. I'm glad I can still surprise you now and then," Gage replied. He chose a sheet of sandpaper from a stack on the kitchen floor and began rubbing it along the bottom shelf of the bookcase he had built as a gift for Walker and Alex's new baby girl.

The design of the piece was simple, but Gage was proud of the craftsmanship. It was shaped like a two-story dollhouse, about three feet tall, complete with a gable roof, two shuttered windows and a door. There was also a delicate scalloped trim along the roof edge and two rosettes, one at each end that he had carved by hand. The "rooms" of the house served as the shelves, three small ones on the second story and two large ones on the first.

"Seriously, how did you learn to do this?"

Sydney thought she and Gage had told each other their entire life stories over the past two years and never once had he mentioned being a skilled craftsman.

"It started with a wood shop teacher I had in high school, Mr. Wessner. He was one of the few teachers I had who wouldn't let me sulk my way through his class. He kept challenging me and pushing me to do better than I ever thought I could. It turned out I had a knack for it and I'd spend time in the wood shop working on stuff after school and Mr. Wessner and I would talk for hours. My final project was to make and install a winding wooden staircase in Mr. Wessner's house. I got an A plus," he said, smiling, a distant look in his eyes.

"Gage?"

"Yeah, Syd?" he said without looking up from his work. He had finished sanding the floor of the dollhouse and had moved on to the upstairs compartments.

"How come you never told me about this before?"

"I don't know. I guess I really hadn't thought about any of it for a long time," Gage said, wishing she would stop making a big deal out of it. He really didn't feel like telling her the whole story.

"There's more to it than that, isn't there? What happened to Mr. Wessner?" Sydney insisted. She knew she was pushing, but there had to be a reason Gage hadn't told her anything about this man.

Sometimes she was like a dog with a bone; she just wouldn't quit. Gage knew it was one of the qualities that made her such an excellent Ranger, but it had its downside, too.

"He found out that I was in a bad foster home and tried to help me. He even applied with Child Protective Services to be a foster parent, but the family I lived with found out about it and we moved suddenly. I was only 15, and I had Julie to consider, so I had no choice but to stay with them. I never saw Mr. Wessner again. After that, I just didn't have the heart to dig my tools out of storage -- until now."

"Gage, I'm sorry you lost touch with such a special person in your life," Sydney said. "What do you think made you want to do this now?"

"I'm not really sure. I was trying to think of something special to give Angela and one day at the mall I saw a bookcase sort of like this one. It was really expensive, though, and it came in a flat box and had to be assembled, and I thought, if I have to build the thing anyway, why not try making one from scratch? So, I drew up a design, bought the materials and here we are," he said, pointing to his creation.

Sydney was touched by all the trouble Gage had gone to for little Angela. It had not been lost on her how much her partner seemed to dote on the Walker's new daughter. She felt a sudden rush of pride in her partner for putting aside an old hurt for Angela's benefit.

Again, he hadn't told her the whole truth. He really did want to do something special, something no one else would do, for Angela. He couldn't explain his deep attachment to that beautiful child. Maybe it was the way she always seemed to fill him with hope, hope that his future would not be as unhappy or as lonely as his past. Lately, he'd been thinking a lot about letting go of the old hurts. Building Angela's gift seemed like a good way to start.

"You could give me a hand," Gage said, nodding toward three small cans of paint lined up on the kitchen counter. "If I can get this painted today, I can take it to Walker's on Sunday."

"Sure. What do you want me to do?"

"There are some paint trays in a box on the table and there should be some small brushes, too. If you could get those out and pour some paint in each of the trays, by the time you get that set up, I should be finished sanding and you can help me paint it."

"You want a different color in each tray?"

"Exactly. Do you like the colors?" he asked, trying to get a girl's opinion. "Do you think Alex will like them?"

"Pink, light green and white," Sydney said, inspecting the colored dots on the lids of each can. "You can't go wrong with those in a baby girl's room. It sounds like the same colors Walker used to decorate the nursery. So, which color is going where?"

"I thought pink for the exterior, white for the interior and the light green for the trim around the roof and the windows. What do you think?"

"That sounds great, but could I try something in one of the rooms? I won't do it if you don't like it. I mean, this is your gift to them, and…"

"Of course, you can try whatever you want and I don't mind this being from both of us, Syd. You know that."

"Really? Hold on a minute. I have to run out to my car," she said, turning around and making a beeline for the door. Gage stilled his hands and listened as she ran down the stairs and then waited until he heard her coming back up before resuming his sanding. When she came back into the kitchen, she was all but bouncing with excitement.

"I thought this would make a nice wall paper for one of the rooms inside," she said, showing him a small roll of wallpaper border depicting a flower garden with tiny roses of pink, white and lavender. There were honeybees buzzing among the blossoms as well as a golden yellow butterfly fluttering on the breeze.

"Syd, this is perfect! Where did you get it?"

"From my car," she said, adding a sarcastic, "Hello! Were you here just a minute ago?"

"Very funny, Shorty. I meant how did it happen to be in your car? Are you remodeling or something?"

"Sort of. I thought I might change a few things around in the apartment, kind of freshen it up a bit. I mean, it's not like I'm going anywhere else any time soon, right? And since I don't have a roommate or anyone to please except myself, I figured I would make the place more 'me'." Gage noticed a slight dimming of the light that inhabited Sydney's eyes, which usually meant that she was bothered about something. He decided to let it pass. If she wanted to talk, she knew he was always ready to listen.

"Let me guess – this is going in…the laundry room," he said matter-of-factly.

"Actually, I haven't decided on anything yet. I just got a bunch of samples from the paint store last weekend to take home and try out. In fact, I had sort of forgotten about them until I saw your project."

"Well, I'm really glad you found this. If there's enough of it, I think we should use it on the whole second floor. What do you think?"

"I thought maybe just the middle room, just as an accent. You don't want to over do it."

"Yeah, you're right. We should keep it simple. Have you ever wallpapered before?"

"Never. You?"

"Once, helping an old girlfriend and her mom do their kitchen. We looked like the Three Stooges. It was hysterical," he said, laughing at the memory. It was unusual to hear Gage laugh about anything from his past. He didn't have very many happy memories after his parents were killed.

"Marilyn spilled wallpaper paste all over me --," he recalled, his voice trailing off at the mention of his former high school sweetheart who was killed along with her fiancé the night of his class reunion. His smile faded and a wistful look came into his eyes, like the one he'd had when he mentioned his former shop teacher.

Sydney wasn't sure what to say. She thought about making a joke about a "sticky situation" but decided she shouldn't make light of it. She knew Gage still felt at least partly responsible for Marilyn's death, not only because he wasn't able to stop the car thieves from shooting her and her fiancé, Ted, but also because Ted's jealousy of Gage and Marilyn's past had been what sent the couple to the parking lot in the first place.

She opted to not say anything and instead just walked over to where he was sitting on the floor, knelt down next to him and draped her arms around him from behind, her clasped hands resting on his chest. He reached up and held her hands in his for a minute before he spoke.

"She was so much fun. It seemed like all we did when we were together was laugh. I think that's why I loved her back then. She was my escape from how awful things were at home," Gage said, fighting the lump in his throat.

"So you two were pretty serious, huh?" Sydney ventured, not knowing if she really wanted an answer to the question, or which answer she would rather hear.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said, stopping short of the whole truth, which was that he and Marilyn had been each other's first time. It wasn't that he didn't want Sydney to know. He just didn't feel like it was his place to reveal such an intimate detail about Marilyn.

"Is that why her father chased you with a shotgun? Because your intentions were less than honorable?" she said, not realizing how close to the truth her joke was. "That's hard to believe, considering what a gentleman you always are now."

"Hey, I'm a guy. I was 17. She was hot and she thought I was, too. I didn't have _intentions, _honorable or otherwise. We were pretty much just having fun and doing what came naturally. Come to think of it, if I'd been her father, I would have tried to shoot me, too." Gage said, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

Sydney was glad Gage was finally talking about Marilyn in a positive sense, recalling happier times, instead of focusing on the guilt he still carried, like a wound that would never completely heal.

"So can I see the scar?" Sydney asked, suddenly recalling Gage's mention of it that night at the reunion. He had told Marilyn he still had the scar just above his left hip from when her father had blasted him with a shotgun loaded with rock salt.

"What? Are you serious?" Gage asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, I want to see it. C'mon, Gage, have you really got a scar or were you just trying to impress your old girlfriend?" Sydney teased and reached for his t-shirt to lift it up and look under it.

"Syd, you don't want to do this," Gage said, grinning but not with his eyes. He pushed her hand away, but she came right back at him. She knew she was dangerously close to crossing the line between helping him get past an old hurt and bringing on a whole new one, but she just couldn't quit now.

"OK, you asked for it," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her off balance. Quick as a wink, he was on his knees, yanking her in front of him and pinning her to the floor on her back. She threw an elbow into his ribs to dislodge him, gaining just enough room to roll over and get to her knees. Before she could stand up, he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug, plastering her arms to her sides and rendering her all but helpless.

"Are you done?" Gage asked, his breath coming in short bursts.

"I think I may still have one trick up my sleeve," Sydney answered and lowered her lips to meet his. He let her kiss him for a second or two and then released her and stood up, turning his back on her. As she stood up and opened her mouth to speak, Gage rounded on her with fire in his eyes.

"Sydney, you know I think the world of you – and then some, but I never thought you'd ever use my feelings for you against me. So this kiss was a trick? Do you even care how that makes me feel? Have you ever kissed anybody without making an excuse for it or a joke out of it?" he raged, his voice growing louder with each question.

End Chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 2

Crossing the Line: Chapter 2

Sydney had only ever heard Gage use this tone with her once before, when he lost his hearing and lashed out at her in frustration over his inability to do his job and help find Marilyn and Ted's killers. He had apologized then, realizing that she was only trying to comfort and support him by saying she understood how hard his sudden disability was for him. This was different.

"Gage, I'm sorry. I thought we were just having fun. I didn't know…I wasn't trying to hurt you. I'd never do that, not on purpose," she said, reaching out to touch his arm, wanting – needing - to reestablish contact. He moved away from her and a sharp pain stabbed through her gut.

"Please, Gage," she said, tears filling her eyes. "You're right. I have made jokes and excuses about things that I shouldn't have. It's just that it feels like things are changing between us, ever since I kissed you at C.D.'s, and I don't know what to do about it."

Needing something to do while he tried to calm down and get his thoughts together, Gage grabbed a screwdriver from the toolbox on the kitchen counter and pried open the can of pink paint. _If only it were that easy to open my heart_, he thought, _or hers for that matter_. He poured some of the paint into one of the trays, watching it spread into the corners as he tried to control the unbridled emotions swirling inside him. He put the lid back on the can and slammed the handle of the screwdriver down hard on the edge to seal it. A light spray of pink paint shot up from the edge of the can and landed partly on his face and partly on his shirt. Terrific.

Gage hated seeing the hurt in Sydney's eyes when he yelled at her, but darn it, she just couldn't keep doing this to him. She couldn't keep making intimate gestures, like kisses, and expect him to behave as though they had no meaning. First, there was the kiss at C.D.'s after the wedding, then a kick in the head when he asked her if she wanted to kiss him again, followed by the kiss he'd all but stolen from her at the Raptor's camp under the guise of their cover as a committed couple. At least she hadn't made him suffer for that one, but she also had never mentioned it again.

If she didn't mean so much to him, if he didn't care as deeply for her as he did, then these little games would be just that – just harmless fun. But he did care for her. In fact, he'd realized somewhere between that first kiss and their adventure on the set of that low-budget vampire thriller that he was in love with her and there was nothing harmless or funny about it.

"Can I say something?" Sydney asked. Her voice sounded small and far away. Gage turned around to see that she was standing at his door, ready to leave.

He didn't want her to go, but maybe it was for the best. Somehow their conversation today had touched on more raw nerves than he even knew he had. The last thing he wanted was to blow up at her again, but as confused and frustrated as he felt, he knew it was still a real possibility.

"Sure, Syd. What is it?" he said quietly, unable to keep the sadness from his voice.

"Whatever else happens, you are still my best friend and the best partner I could ever ask for. You will always be the person I want to tell my problems to because I feel safe with you." Gage felt a deep pang of guilt for the ugly way he had lashed out at her. She really didn't deserve his crack about never kissing anybody without making a joke out of it.

"Syd," he began, but she cut him off.

"Please let me finish. But lately, Gage, you are the problem and I don't know how to talk to you about you."

"Do you want to try? I promise not to yell at you again, not even if you yell at me first," he said, smiling and hoping his small attempt at humor would reassure her that she was still safe with him.

"Come here, please?" Gage said, opening his arms. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I don't know why I'm so touchy today, but I think I could really use a hug from my best friend."

Sydney kept her eyes on the floor as she slowly walked back into the kitchen. She didn't want him to see how upset she was, not only at how he yelled at her, but at herself for pushing him. They were both very private people and it had taken a long time for them to establish the trust that they shared, to open up about all the details of their pasts – both good and bad. But the key to that trust had been patience, a willingness on each of their parts to let the other person speak in his or her own time. Today, she had violated that rule. He had every right to be angry with her, and instead he was offering to comfort her. They both knew who could really use the hug.

As she came to him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. After a minute, he could feel her trembling and noticed that his t-shirt felt wet where her face lay against his chest.

He reached down and gently lifted her chin with his right hand, so that he could look into her eyes. She was right. Things were changing between them. The proof of that was there on her tear-streaked face. Sydney Cooke did not cry. She yelled, she fought, she even screamed now and then, but she did not cry. He knew that whatever she was going through was beyond anything she knew how to handle and he knew that somehow he was the cause of it. He resolved right then and there that he would never be the cause of anything but happy tears for her ever again.

"Can I show you something?" he asked, stepping away from her enough to lift the bottom of his t-shirt to reveal the area just above the waistline of his jeans. "It's sort of faded, but you can still feel where it is," he said, taking her hand in his and placing it over the small patch of rough skin that was the scar from Marilyn's father's shotgun blast.

Sydney rubbed her fingers over the elliptical mark, sending an unexpected shiver of pleasure through him at her light, intimate touch. It was all he could do to keep from trembling and giving himself away.

For her part, Sydney couldn't help noticing his well-defined abs and the crease on either side of his belly button that descended below his waistline. She tore her eyes away from his finely sculpted body and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry. I should never have questioned you. You are the most honorable man I know." _And the sweetest. And the sexiest._ "I should have remembered that."

"I wasn't interested in impressing my old girlfriend, Syd. If you recall, I was going to tell Ted that night that I was crazy about someone else. Who do you think that might have been?"

"I thought you were just making that up to make Ted feel better," she said. "Are you saying you really meant that? You meant… _me_?"

That was when it hit him. She really had no idea how he felt about her. Why should she? He'd never treated her as anything other than a close, trusted friend and partner, never said or done anything that would have clearly shown her how much she meant to him. The kiss at the Raptor camp, although drenched in ulterior motives, was easily chalked up to their undercover act.

"Yes, Shorty, I meant you, but before I had a chance to explain that to you, I ended up in the hospital, totally deaf, not knowing if I'd ever regain my hearing. Then every ounce of energy I had went into my recovery and I knew it wouldn't be fair to tell you that my feelings for you went beyond friendship when I really didn't have the time or the strength to pursue a relationship with you. It was more than enough that you were there beside me every day helping me through it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you how much that meant to me."

"I wouldn't have been anywhere else. You're my partner."

"Sydney, I hope that isn't all that I am to you," Gage said, turning to face her and taking her hands in his.

"No, you're also my best friend," Sydney answered, very much aware of where Gage was headed, but unwilling to give away her own feelings. She dropped his hands, walked around to the opposite side of the kitchen table and picked up a paintbrush. "Are we going to paint this thing today, or what?"

"So you're saying that is all that I am to you. Your partner and best friend?" Gage asked.

"Gage, what do you want from me? What do you want me to say?" Sydney pleaded, the tears welling up in her eyes again.

"I want you to answer my question. I want you to explain to me why you've kissed me, twice now, and then acted like it didn't really mean anything to you. You can't have it both ways, Syd, either you want things to change between us or you don't."

In a last ditch effort to keep her true feelings hidden, she repeated her only line of defense.

"But, you're my partner!" Sydney cried.

"You know what, Syd? I know that," Gage shot back, making no attempt to disguise his frustration with her. He stepped around the table and placed his hands on her shoulders. Looking straight into her dark brown eyes, he continued, "I am aware, sometimes _painfully_ aware, every day that I'm your partner, but I'm also a man, Sydney, and I can't help noticing that you are a woman, a gorgeous, desirable woman, and…and…oh, hell, I just can't keep this up anymore."

"Keep what up?" Sydney asked weakly, terrified that he meant that he couldn't be partners with her anymore since he'd noticed how gorgeous and desirable she was. Right now, she certainly didn't feel like she was either one.

"This! This half-truth that we live every day that lets us be best friends and partners, that lets us love each other, but not be _in love with_ each other," he said, spreading his arms wide as if to encompass all they had shared in their two-year partnership.

"Oh, Syd, I've been such a fool. We both have. For months now, we've watched each other walk up to that imaginary line and stop. We stand there, both of us waiting for the other person to cross first, because we're too scared to risk crossing it alone. We joke. We tease. We even argue and fight, but we always stop short of what we really want. Well, I don't want to be afraid anymore."

With that, he took the paintbrush out of Sydney's hand, dipped it into the tray and drew a solid pink line about six feet long in the middle of his kitchen floor.

Sydney stood there, her now empty hand suspended in mid-air, her jaw slightly agape. Had he lost his mind? Exactly who, she wondered, does one call to summon the men in the white coats?

End Chapter 2.


	3. Chapter 3

Crossing the Line: Chapter 3

Gage saw the stunned look on Sydney's face and knew that she believed he was crazy. In truth, he had never been so clear, so sure about anything in his life.

"No more imaginary line," he said, pointing to the one he had just painted on the tile. "No more doubts, no more waiting. I know how I feel about you and I'm going to show you, right here, right now. The only question now is how you feel about me. I hope and pray I know the answer, Syd, but there's only one way to find out."

Laying the paintbrush in the tray, he stepped carefully across the painted line, turned around and held out his hand.

"Are you going to come with me, Syd, or are you going to wonder for the rest of your life what might have been if we had only given ourselves a chance?"

"Do you really think we could make it work? Being more than partners?" she asked, her resistance weakening but still keeping her feet firmly planted on her side of the line.

"Yes, Syd, I do."

"What if we don't? What if it all goes wrong and we end up hating each other? We'd be risking so much."

"Syd, why are you so sure it won't work? What are you really afraid of?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Please, just tell me."

She crossed her arms in front of herself and stood staring at the floor for so long that Gage thought she might not have heard him. When she finally spoke, she began slowly and then the words tumbled out of her like a waterfall of pain and sadness.

"I'm…afraid…that you're only saying this now because it hasn't happened yet… and once it does, you'll realize that I'm not really all that special and you'll want out and I'll want to die because I will not only have lost my love, but also my best friend and partner."

Was she serious? Not all that special? Didn't she know that she was the most incredible, exciting, sexy woman in the whole world? Her insecurities were so out of sync with the tough, capable Ranger that he knew that it struck him as almost funny and he might have laughed out loud had it not been for the look of utter defeat in her eyes.

"Syd, do you trust me?"

"Yes, with my life."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Never."

"Then why would I start now? Syd, you just said you trust me with your life. Now I'm asking you to trust me with your heart. I know I'm asking a lot, Syd, but please, just take my hand."

She looked at him through misty eyes. He was so handsome, even with flecks of pink paint scattered across his nose, like Pepto Bismol freckles. His blue eyes sparkled with so much hope and longing that she wondered how she could have ever doubted that he loved her as much she loved him.

Finally, she looked at his outstretched hand and it occurred to her that since the day they met his hands had always been there to catch her, support her, comfort her. This was no different. Why had she not been able to see that before?

She reached out and grasped his hand. In the instant their fingers touched, the burden of fear Sydney had been carrying for so long evaporated and she all but floated to Gage's side.

When Sydney took his hand, Gage was so happy, he wanted to pull her across that painted line and engulf her in his arms. But he forced himself to let her walk across completely under her own power. It was the only way he could be sure that the decision had been entirely her own.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close for a minute before he realized that she was crying again.

"Shhh. It's OK. Sydney, I promise you, you don't have to be afraid anymore. You see, Syd, you may not think you are all that special, but I've always known what a magnificent woman you are. Didn't I tell you once that you are pretty and smart and funny and you can kick butt with the best of them? I wasn't just making that up, Syd. I really believe all those things and I wasn't just saying it to make you feel better, I was trying to tell you that I love you."

She looked up at him and he stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tears.

"And at your class reunion and that time you said you liked having me on the back of your bike, were you telling me then, too?" She looked at him like a child who's just learned the truth about Santa Claus.

"Yes, Syd, " Gage said, smiling in spite of himself.

"And when Lily Jenner kissed you as we were leaving the movie set, and you said you'd had better, what were you referring to?" she asked in a tone she often used when interrogating suspects.

"Two things. The kiss that started this whole mess and that time we were with the Raptors. I was talking about you, Shorty. You."

Without warning, Sydney raised herself up on her tiptoes and met Gage's lips with hers. She slid her arms up his back and held on, kissing him hungrily. He wasted no time in responding to her embrace, pulling her to him and running his hands through her hair. She started to break the kiss, to come up for air, but he wasn't ready to let go. He held her face in his hands, his mouth pressed against hers. Her fingers curled into his hair as she opened her mouth to allow his tongue access. He took full advantage of the opportunity, tasting and exploring until they both moaned in unison. Only when he had her securely in his arms again did he begin to slow the kiss, delivering a series of pecks to her mouth, her jaw, her throat, finally stopping and looking into her eyes, which were sparkling mischievously.

"I told you if I ever kissed you for real, you'd know the difference," she said.

"That you did. And you were one hundred percent right," he said, adding, "You also told me once that you wished I was with you when you went to sleep every night. Is that still true?"

Her eyes flew open as she recalled her bedside confession the day of Gage's surgery to restore his hearing. "You did hear me! You heard me say that months ago and you're just now letting me in on it? Why I ought to…" she said, winding up like she was going to punch him.

Gage ducked his head to avoid the punch and instantly swooped in for another kiss, effectively quelling Sydney's desire for retaliation.

When their lips parted, Gage confessed, "I didn't hear everything you said that day, just bits and snatches of it, but that part did come through pretty clear."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"What was I going to say, Syd? 'Oh, by the way, if you want me to, I'd be happy to sleep with you tonight?' Somehow I think that might have earned me worse than a kick in the head."

"Yeah, you're probably right. By the way, I really am sorry I kicked you, but in a way, it was your own fault," Sydney declared.

"What? How do you figure?" Gage asked, releasing her from his arms and planting his hands on his hips.

"I asked you if you wanted me to kiss you and you said it was my call, which, I admit, was rather chivalrous of you, but obviously left too much room for misinterpretation on my part. Had you simply said yes, you did want me to kiss you, you may have gotten a very different response," she said, a sly smile on her lips.

"Is that so? Mind if I test your theory?" he asked, taking her hand and leading her into the living room, which had a thick, soft carpet on the floor.

"Be my guest," she answered. Assuming that they were headed for the couch to cuddle, she let her guard down, just like he knew she would.

In a flash, he spun around and pulled her forward, her momentum sending her sprawling as she tripped over his outstretched leg. She landed on her back on the carpet with him on top of her, recreating almost exactly the position they were in that day in the gym.

For a second, anger flashed in her eyes, but it quickly faded when he said, "Why don't you let me see if I can tell the difference?" She knew her next line in this little drama by heart.

"You want me to kiss you?" she said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes, Sydney, I do. I really, really do want you to kiss me."

"Well, why didn't you just say so? All you had to do was ask," she purred as her lips met his in a sweet, tender kiss that grew in intensity until at last they separated, both breathing heavily.

Gage sat up, pulling her into his arms as they knelt on the floor. She kissed him once more, lightly, and then just sat basking in the glow of his loving gaze.

"I love you, Syd. I will always love you."

"I love you, too, Gage. I always have."

The End.


End file.
